


Pharynx-Larynx-Oesophagus-Trachea

by firethesound



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anatomy, Bad Puns, Banter, M/M, Sex, Studying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:16:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1711328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firethesound/pseuds/firethesound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's idea for helping Draco study is the most brilliant thing he's ever come up with, and Draco discovers that studying can be fun when one has the right study partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Draco clapped his hands over his eyes. “Occipital. Parietal. Frontal. Temporal. Er, temporal, and… And…” He frowned. “ _And_ …” His frown deepened and he bit his lower lip. “Something with an S… The… Fuck. Fucking fuck.” He peeked through his fingers at the book lying open on the table before him. “ _Sphenoid_ ,” he hissed as he slapped his hands down on the tabletop. “Frontal. Temporal. _Sphenoid_. That fucking _cunt_.”

A shadow fell over the page of the book. “I’m not sure what you’ve been learning in that anatomy class of yours, but I’m pretty sure that last one’s not part of the skull.”

Draco twisted in his seat to glare up at Harry. “Fuck off,” he grumbled, but accepted the light kiss Harry brushed over his mouth. “Professor McQuillen is a bloody madwoman.” He huffed and folded his arms over his chest. “Do you know what she did today?”

“No,” Harry said, picking up Draco’s mug of tea to steal a sip. “But I’ve got a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

For a moment, Draco considered scolding Harry for stealing his tea, but decided it would interrupt the flow of his rant. “ _Today_ she informed us that _tomorrow_ there will be an exam. And on this exam we will have to name all the parts of the body.” He waited for Harry to join him in the throes righteous outrage.

Harry, being the difficult fucking _bastard_ that he was, did no such thing. He just raised his eyebrows at Draco and said, “So I guess you’re going to be too busy studying to go flying tonight?”

“On _all the parts of the body_ ,” Draco repeated. “All of them.” He waited, and still Harry didn’t react. “ _All of them_ , all the bones and muscles and organs and—Do you know how many bones there are in the human body? Two hundred and six! And there are six hundred and—”

“Wow,” Harry said, and Draco broke off mid-rant, waiting for the rest of his reaction.

Because surely he would agree with Draco that McQuillen had clearly taken leave of her senses and ought to be removed immediately on the basis of being bloody well _insane_. He already had to deal with her annoying American accent – and _why_ they couldn’t have found a proper British instructor for the class, Draco had no earthly idea – but her being a complete nutter on top of it was just too much for him to be expected to deal with. _Deranged_ was where Draco drew the line.

“Just one day to study?” Harry went on. “That’s rather ambitious.” He sipped more of Draco’s tea.

“That’s rather _mental_ ,” Draco snapped at him. “She went off on about some rubbish about separating the wheat from the chaff and seeing which of us truly deserve to become Healers.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Harry said, leaning down to press a smacking kiss to Draco’s forehead. “You’re wheat if I ever saw it. Or should you be chaff? Which is the good one, actually?” His mouth pursed into a small frown. “I’ve got no idea what chaff is, but you’d probably want to be wheat because it can make bread and things.”

“I…” Draco hesitated, unwilling to admit that he didn’t know. He didn’t even know what chaff bloody well was – what did he look like, a bloody farmer? – and at this point he didn’t even care to find out. He had no room in his brain for extraneous information.

“What else is wheat used for? I feel like there’s more…” Harry continued, his nose scrunching up as he thought hard. He clapped his hands together. “Pasta! It can also make pasta. Hey, do you feel like spaghetti tonight?”

“Spaghetti?” Draco echoed.

“Yeah, I think we’ve got some tomato sauce left over,” Harry said as he turned away and started for the kitchen, ignoring Draco’s suffering and implicitly dismissing all of Draco’s very serious problems and _stealing Draco’s tea_ , the _bastard_. “It won’t take long to heat up. And I can make some garlic bread to go with it.” He paused to snicker to himself. “More wheat,” he murmured.

“Why do I put up with you?” Draco shouted at his retreating back.

Harry turned back to face him, blinking owlishly. “Well, I was under the impression that you rather liked me.”

“Well I don’t!” Because it was true. Draco absolutely hated Harry in that moment, the stupid tea-stealing tosser that he was.

“Huh,” Harry said. “I’m not sure how I got the wrong impression, then. I think it might’ve been something about us living together, or the three long and happy years I’ve been your boyfriend, or all the sex—”

Draco threw his book at him. Harry ducked neatly out of the way, and Draco cursed Harry’s quick reflexes, likely from all the Auror training he’d been doing. Auror classes that weren’t run by barmy American witches who scheduled exams on the entire bloody textbook during the second bloody week of class. Belatedly, he realized he still needed his textbook for studying and cast a hasty _Accio_. The book clipped Harry’s shoulder as it sailed back across the room.

“Ouch!”

“Good!” Draco told him, slamming his book down onto the table. “Now you know how I feel!”

“Like your boyfriend’s being unreasonable and kind of an arse?” Harry suggested, rubbing at his shoulder.

“Yes, exactly,” Draco agreed before it caught up with him what Harry was really saying. “You! You!” he sputtered.

“Use your words,” Harry muttered.

Draco threw the book at him again.

But this time when he tried to _Accio_ it again, Harry got to it first. He walked up to the table, and Draco wasn’t naive enough to think that Harry would do him the kindness of returning his book. Harry never did like to make things easy for Draco.

“Right,” Harry said. He put Draco’s mug back down onto the table rather more forcefully than necessary. A little of the tea sloshed over the rim, but before Draco could say anything about that, Harry walked out of the room.

Taking Draco’s anatomy textbook with him.

For a moment, Draco sat stunned. Hadn’t Harry listened to _anything_ he’d just said? He had this ridiculous exam tomorrow and Harry didn’t seem to care that Draco needed to study. Instead he waltzed in here all calm and happy with his stupid good mood and all his stupid spare time, and then stole Draco’s tea, and then _stole Draco’s book_ , the sheer bloody nerve of him! Merlin, this time Draco was absolutely going to murder him. This wasn’t like leaving his shoes in the middle of the living room or putting the milk into his mug before the tea – and really, who even _does_ that? – or using up the last bit of Draco’s imported shampoo without replacing it which was tantamount to pouring it down the drain, in Draco’s honest opinion, because it didn’t do shit for Harry’s horrid hair, or—

Hearing Harry’s footsteps on the stairs spurred Draco into action. He leapt up and started after him, then turned back and hurried to the dining room, aimed a spell at the table so the spilled tea wouldn’t leave a ring, then turned back around and started after Harry again.

Up in the bedroom, he found Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, Draco’s textbook open to the index. “Take your clothes off,” Harry said without looking up.

Draco gaped at him. “You think you’re getting sex? You steal my book and think you’re going to get a shag out of it?” Fucking hell, Harry was as mad as McQuillen. “You’re insane! For once in my life, I’d like to share a home with someone who’s not entirely off their rocker!”

Harry snorted and flipped a page. “Are you seriously comparing me to Voldemort?”

“No,” Draco huffed, folding his arms over his chest. “You haven’t got the bloody enormous snake.”

“My snake is plenty enormous,” Harry said mildly. “Or so you’ve told me. Just last night, I believe.” And while Draco was rendered utterly speechless by the sheer _horribleness_ of Harry’s pun, Harry said, “Ah-ha!” and flipped quickly through the book. Having found the page he wanted, he set it aside on the bed and looked up at Draco and frowned. “Are you still dressed?” 

Draco glanced down at himself, then glared at Harry. “Obviously,” he sneered.

“Well, get undressed,” Harry told him. He dragged his shirt off, ruffling his hair and nearly dislodging his glasses. He looked up to find that Draco hadn’t moved, then heaved a dramatic sigh and stalked across the bedroom and tried to wrench Draco’s shirt over his head.

“What are you doing!” Draco demanded, trying to push him away. “Unhand me! I have to study! I haven’t got time for sex right now!” Harry and Draco both went still at the same moment and stared at each other in surprise.

“I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth,” Harry said.

“I know,” Draco agreed faintly. “I didn’t either.” Perhaps he was the crazy one here. Perhaps crazy was contagious and he was finally—“Hey!”

Harry had taken advantage of Draco’s distraction to pull Draco’s shirt over his head. He couldn’t see and his arms were all caught up in it, and rather than fight Harry for it, he just let it go. Harry tossed it aside and reached for Draco’s trousers.

“Hay is for horses,” he said.

Draco glared at him. “What are you on about?” Wheat and chaff and now farm animals, Merlin help him. No, Merlin help _Harry_ , because Draco was about to hex him senseless.

“I’m going to help you study,” Harry said, ignoring Draco’s question entirely. “I thought perhaps we could make it more interesting if you took a more _hands on_ approach to it.”

Draco eyed him warily. “Whose hands?” he asked at last.

“Mine,” Harry said with a slight leer. “All you’d have to do is lie back and learn.”

It was the flimsiest excuse for sex Draco had ever heard, and just last year Harry had insisted that they shag in every room of their house when they’d first moved into it. Something about a Muggle tradition, which Draco was willing to bet every last knut in his Gringotts vault that Harry had made up on the spot. At the time Draco was sure that Harry would never beat it for sheer ridiculousness. He should have known better. Defying expectations was just what Harry did.

Draco was reluctant to admit that this ridiculous attempt at seduction was actually working on him. But the idea of just lying back and letting Harry have his way with Draco certainly had its appeal… Merlin, he loved being the focus of Harry’s attention, especially when he—

“Wait,” Draco said. “How exactly would this be helping me study?”

Harry hooked two fingers into the waist of Draco’s trousers and tugged him closer. “I was thinking I’d pay very close attention to each part of your body as you tell me all the bones and muscles and things in it.”

“Oh,” Draco said. His mouth had gone dry and he licked his lips, and watched Harry’s eyes follow the motion of his tongue. “And if I can’t name them?”

Harry’s grin was slow and scorching. “I won’t let you come until you do.”

Well. That would certainly be motivating.

“Why didn’t you just explain that to me to begin with?” Draco asked. They could have skipped a lot of needless bother if Harry had just started the conversation with, ‘I’m going to get you naked and give you orgasms while you study.’

“I don’t know,” Harry said with a shrug. “I sort of like getting you all riled up like this.”

Draco pushed Harry away. “You wanted to irritate me on purpose?”

Harry just pulled him back in and nipped lightly at his throat. “Well, I’m about to spend the rest of the evening focused on you. I thought I deserved a little foreplay.”

Draco thought perhaps he should be upset by that, but he was highly distracted by the way Harry was sucking at his neck. “Ah,” he said. And besides, he understood exactly what Harry meant. Sometimes working Harry up into a pique did more for Draco than any physical stimulation ever could. Fucking Harry while his temper ran high was Draco’s favorite thing in the world.

Draco started to say something, but Harry kissed him then, deep and insistent, and Draco decided that whatever he was going to say probably hadn’t been that important anyhow. He let Harry unbutton his trousers and push them down. Draco kicked them off and hooked his fingers through Harry’s belt loops and hauled their hips together so he could rock his half-hard cock against Harry’s.

Harry broke the kiss and pulled away with a shuddering sigh. “On the bed with you,” he said, fumbling with the buttons of his own trousers.

Draco climbed up onto the bed and sprawled back against the pillows, his limbs stretched wide because he knew Harry liked him like that. Sure enough, Harry’s gaze heated as it swept the length of Draco’s body, up and down his long legs and lean torso. He hopped up onto the bed and grinned as he settled down by Draco’s feet.

Draco frowned. “What are you doing down there?”

“I think it’ll be best to start at the bottom and work my way up,” Harry said, running one fingertip over Draco’s instep. “Don’t you think?”

Draco shivered as Harry looked up at him, his eyes eager and amused and so very green, and Draco’s breath caught. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to Harry looking at him like that, avid and intimate, a little glimpse of Harry that Draco knew no one else ever got to see, and it always shook him more than he cared to admit because when Harry looked at him like that, Draco felt like he had _forever_.

The moment broke when Harry looked away and reached across the bed to slide the open book closer, then nudged his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with one finger while he scanned over the page.

“Okay. Bones. Start at the toes,” Harry said, then leaned down and fastened his mouth, hot and wet, over the knob of Draco’s left ankle. “Go on, then,” he murmured, the mouthed his way back to Draco’s Achilles tendon and nibbled lightly at it.

“What?” Draco said.

Harry lifted his mouth again. “Bones, Draco. Start with the toes.” He leaned down again and pressed his lips to Draco’s ankle, the front this time, where his shin sloped down to his instep.

“What?” said Draco again. This wasn’t going to work. He’d never been able to think clearly with Harry’s mouth doing those sorts of things to him; there was no way he could study for his exam like this.

“You heard me,” Harry said, pulling away again. “Come on,” he said and paused to reach up and poke Draco in the ribs. “If your mouth’s not moving, then neither’s mine.”

“Phalanges,” Draco said desperately, and sighed as Harry nibbled his way down the instep and in toward the arch. “Distal, middle, and proximal.” Harry’s teeth scraped the sensitive arch and Draco twisted on the bed, trying to give Harry better access to the bottom of his foot. “Metatarsals, one, two, three, four, and five. Oh fuck, Harry.”

“Keep going,” Harry murmured. He slid his fingers around Draco’s ankle, massaging gently as he raised his head to take a peek at the textbook.

“Medial, intermediate, and lateral cuneiforms. Cuboid. Talus. Cal—”

“You’ve missed one,” Harry said. “Navicular.”

Draco thumped his head back against the pillows. “Fuck, I knew that one.”

“Start again,” Harry said and returned to nibbling at Draco’s instep.

“Phalanges. Distal, middle, proximal.” Draco moaned as Harry moved down to the arch of his foot again and dragged his tongue along it. “Metatarsals. Onetwothreefour, _oh_ fuck. Five. Harry. I can’t.”

“Keep going,” Harry murmured. “You’ve got this.” He scraped his teeth over Draco’s heel.

And Draco did. He continued up, and Harry’s mouth followed his words, fibula-tibia-patella-femur, all the way up. Draco liked femur. He liked it rather a lot as Harry mouthed his way all up the inside of his thigh, moving steadily inwards, the tip of his nose just brushing Draco’s bollocks—

And then he stopped.

“What’re you doing?” he asked as Harry shifted back down the mattress to his feet.

“Toes,” Harry said, licking at Draco’s right ankle. “Go on.”

“But,” Draco said. Merlin, he needed… He reached for his cock and managed two strokes before Harry snagged him by the wrist and pulled his hand away. Draco fisted his hands in the bedsheets. “I just did that.”

Harry huffed a soft laugh, his breath warm on Draco’s skin. “You’ve got two legs, don’t you?”

“But—”

“Be good and start again, and we’ll do your hands next.” Harry smirked and kissed his ankle. “I’ll let you name the bones in your fingers one at a time.”

Draco thought of Harry’s hot mouth, how his tongue would curl around Draco’s fingers as he sucked them one by one. Draco’s cock throbbed at the mere thought of it.

“Phalanges,” he said quickly. “Distal, middle, proximal…”

 

****

 

By the time they finally made their way up to Draco’s skull, Draco was entirely sold on this sort of studying. Harry kissed him, long and slow, then slid back down his body, nipping and kissing as he went.

“Again,” he said, flicking his tongue against Draco’s great toe.

They ran through it twice more, and the last time Harry’s mouth could barely keep up with Draco’s, sliding up and over Draco’s body as Draco rattled off the names of each bone. Harry finished kissing him, mandible-maxilla-zygomatic- _sphenoid_ , that little cunt, Draco would never forget it again so long as he lived.

“Well,” Harry said, leaning back, looking flushed and a little sweaty and greatly pleased with himself. “You seem to have all the bones done.”

“Not quite,” Draco said, arching up and rubbing his hard cock against Harry’s thigh. “We seem to have missed one.”

Harry snorted. “That was bloody awful, you know.”

Draco arched an eyebrow and stared Harry down. “ _Enormous snake_ , Potter,” he said.

Harry huffed out a soft laugh. “Touche.”

“Well,” Draco said. “Have I passed?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said, picking up one of Draco’s hands and pressing a kiss to the center of his palm. “I’d give you an O.”

Draco smirked. Normally he left the terrible puns to Harry, but since the opening presented itself so neatly… “Really, I believe I’d like you to give me an O right now.” He pushed his hips up against Harry again.

“That was terrible,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Enormous snake, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop it. You’ve already said that.”

“And it was so horrible it’s worth mentioning twice,” Draco said. “And I never told you that you were _enormous_. I believe what I said was that I love how big you feel when you’re inside me. How much I love when you push into me slowly, stretching me open—”

A bit of dirty talk worked on Harry like nothing else. He cut off Draco’s words in a needy kiss, messy and hard and all-consuming. Draco melted into it, losing himself in the hot slick slide of Harry’s lips over his own, the insistent press of his tongue, the near-frantic way Harry’s fingers curled around his shoulders.

Draco reached out and fumbled on the nightstand for the jar of lube that quite never seemed to make it back into the drawer. He managed to get the lid off and slicked his fingers, but Harry noticed when Draco shifted to reach down.

“Oh,” Harry said, starting to lift himself off Draco. “Here, let me…”

“No,” Draco said, biting at Harry’s jaw. “I’ll do it.”

He loved when Harry fingered him open, but sometimes it was best to do it himself. Harry always took his time, even after three years together, going slow and gentle to make sure he didn’t cause Draco even the slightest twinge of pain. But sometimes Draco wanted it hard and fast. He wanted it to hurt a little, wanted that dull burn to consume him from the inside out.

“Okay,” he said, dipping his fingers back into the jar and reaching back down to slick Harry’s cock. “I’m ready.”

Harry shifted atop him, settling in firmly between Draco’s thighs and pushing the tip of his cock against Draco’s hole. He pressed in slowly, so slowly, those startlingly green eyes watching Draco for even the smallest sign of discomfort. It hurt a little – Draco hadn’t stretched himself nearly enough – but the feel of Harry’s cock forcing him open had him sighing in pleasure. He curled one hand around the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

The long slow drag of Harry’s cock as he pulled nearly all the way out and pushed back in again was a sort of exquisite torture that Draco could never get enough of. He rocked his hips up, meeting him at the apex of each stroke, and as always he couldn’t help but marvel that he had this. That he had Harry. That he had _this_ with Harry. They knew each other so well, how their bodies fit together, how they each moved. Their rhythm built and built, becoming harder and faster. Draco broke the kiss, his breath coming in short gasps. It was good, Merlin, it was so good, but he wanted more. He could take it, and he knew Harry knew he could take it, but he also knew that Harry always held back a little, reluctant to go anywhere near the line of hurting him.

But that was all right with Draco.

Because one other thing they each knew was how to goad the other into reacting exactly as they wanted.

“Come on,” Draco growled against Harry’s shoulder. “Fuck me like you mean it, Potter.”

“Shut up and fucking take it, Malfoy,” Harry snarled back. He slammed his hips forward, hard and fast and just fucking perfect.

Draco laughed breathlessly and dug his heels into the mattress, pushing up to meet each thrust. “Maybe I would if you’d—”

“Merlin’s fucking tits,” Harry said. “Do you ever fucking shut up?”

“Give me a reason to,” Draco taunted.

“How about my cock in your mouth, would that be enough of a reason?” Harry panted. He fisted one hand in Draco’s hair and pulled so he could bite at Draco’s throat.

“Next,” Draco gasped as Harry’s teeth scraped over his hammering pulse. “We’ll do that next. I’ll suck you and then you can suck me.”

“How about—Oh, oh fuck. GodMerlin _Draco_ ,” Harry stammered out as his body went tense and his thrusts went shallow and erratic.

Draco could feel Harry’s cock pulsing inside him, and he arched his back, trapping his own cock tight between his stomach and Harry’s. He rocked up against Harry one, two, three more times and then came with a low, half-strangled groan.

They collapsed together, sweaty and sticky and Harry overwarm and heavy atop Draco. Draco didn’t care, he just put his arms around Harry and held him closer.

“Short break,” Harry mumbled, his voice muffled against Draco’s shoulder. “Then we’ll start again. Ten minutes.”

Draco sighed and snuggled deeper into Harry’s embrace. “Mm, yes,” he said. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the side of Harry’s head, just above his ear. “Rest up, Potter. I’m fairly sure this is going to be an all-nighter.”

 

****

 

The next day, Draco finished his exam with twenty minutes to spare and one hell of a stiffy. He knew he wouldn’t have an O on it – he and Harry had both been entirely shagged out before they’d finished naming all the muscles – but he felt more than confident in a passing grade. If he’d had another day to study, he’d absolutely have had it.

Draco walked into the living room and found Harry curled up on the sofa with a knitted blanket tossed over his knees and a book open in his lap

“So?” he asked, looking up when Draco walked in. “How’d it go?”

“Brilliant, thanks to you,” Draco said, leaning in for a kiss.

Harry grinned at him. “I’ve found a good way to study, then?”

“Oh yes,” Draco said, losing himself in memory for a moment. Pharynx-larynx-oesophagus-trachea had been especially nice, and Draco still had the lovebites to prove it. “I’m going to have you help me study for all my exams from now on.”

“That’ll have to wait,” Harry said, standing.

Draco frowned at him. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I’ve got an exam tomorrow on the departmental codes of conduct, and it’s _your_ turn to help _me_.” Harry tucked his book under his arm, took Draco by the hand, and began to lead him upstairs. “There’s a whole chapter on personal relationships between coworkers and inappropriate workplace behavior that I’m having trouble with in particular. I think some role play might help me remember it better.”

Draco was intrigued by this mention of ‘inappropriate workplace behavior’ and even more intrigued by the idea of role play. He rather hoped it would be exactly what he was thinking of. “That,” he said, pausing to pinch Harry’s bum. “Can most certainly be arranged.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally meant to be a sequel, but it ended up working better as a second chapter so I just added it here.

Harry’s exam wasn’t until the end of the week, but no time like the present to start reviewing the material for it, yeah? Cultivating good study habits and all that. He gave Draco a push when they reached the landing, nudging him on ahead as they started up the second flight of stairs, and couldn’t resist giving his arse a little smack while he did. Draco aimed a glare over his shoulder and swatted Harry’s hand away.

“Stop that,” Draco said, and as soon as he turned around, Harry smacked his bum again.

Draco glared at him again, but didn’t say anything. Probably better than to give Harry any further temptation to misbehave. He knew he really shouldn’t take this much pleasure in it, but getting Draco all wound up was just so fucking _fun_. So much fun it ought to be illegal. Especially since then Harry, as an Auror-in-training, would be duty-bound to arrest him. There’d be restraints, oh, _hand cuffs_ , and interrogations, and—

“What chapter is your exam on?” Draco asked, walking into the bedroom.

“I bet you’d be so difficult. Wouldn’t answer a single question,” Harry sighed, not quite willing to let go of his fantasy just yet. It was a _really_ good fantasy.

Draco just stared at him, face utterly blank. “I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means,” he said flatly. “I’m not entirely certain I want to, either.”

“Er,” said Harry. The exam for the chapter on prisoner interrogations wouldn’t be for another few weeks, unfortunately. They had to get through the one on interpersonal relationships and then the one on proper arrest procedure first. “Chapter six. I need to study chapter six.”

He’d definitely be enlisting Draco’s help to study for chapter eight, though. It couldn’t be that difficult to Transfigure a pair of handcuffs, he thought.

“Wonderful,” said Draco, already leafing through the book. “Now get out, I need to look over this.”

“Wait, wait. I thought the whole point was to help me study?” Harry protested even as Draco shoved him to the door. His socked feet slipped on the polished wood boards and he made a grab for the doorframe.

“Yes, but I need to know it to help you, don’t I?” Draco thumped Harry’s fingers with his fist, and when Harry snatched them away with a yelp—an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp at that, but bloody hell it _hurt_ —Draco shoved him out into the hall and slammed the door right in Harry’s face.

He considered marching right back in there, but Draco could be a contrary little shit when pushed, and Harry very much wanted him to do this. In the end, he figured he’d leave Draco to getting the basics of what Harry had to learn and went downstairs to make himself a cup of tea. He left his used tea bag in the sink out of spite, though he knew Draco would bitch at him later for it but it was the very least Harry owed him on behalf of his stinging fingers. He settled at the table and flipped idly through one of Draco’s anatomy books and waited to be summoned back to the bedroom.

Might as well study up for Draco’s next exam.

Harry had reviewed the next two chapters and finished his cup of tea, and was just contemplating making a second cup when Draco called him back. He went eagerly, leaving his cup on the counter without rinsing it, but what the hell, it might distract Draco from fussing about the teabag in the sink. And then was intensely and increasingly disappointed when studying turned out to be nowhere near as exciting as he’d built it up in his imagination. Helping Draco to study had involved not very many clothes and rather a lot of Harry’s mouth on various parts of his body, along with several interludes of vigorous shagging. Study breaks, Harry had called them just before capturing Draco’s laughing mouth with his own.

But studying for Harry’s exam involved sitting side-by-side on the bed, with the both of them fully clothed (to Harry’s ongoing disappointment) and a lot of Draco snapping at him when Harry failed to recall whether it was Section Four, Paragraph Five, that outlined appropriate footwear for the workplace, or if it was Section Five, Paragraph Four. And yeah, Harry could definitely appreciate Draco getting all peevish, and it was sort of funny how pink-cheeked and irritated Draco had got when Harry stumbled over the part about appropriate maximum heel height for boots, but they’d been at it for nearly an hour and frankly Harry had thought he’d have got at least _one_ orgasm out of it by now.

“And according to Section Eight, Paragraph Thirty, on which holidays are you allowed to purchase a gift for your coworkers?” Draco droned on.

“Er, Christmas and birthdays and… there’s another one, right?” Harry frowned. “Halloween?”

“Right,” Draco said with a nod. He didn’t lift his eyes from the book. “And Section Eight, Paragraph Thirty-one. What is the monetary limit for each of the gifts?”

Harry wracked his brain. “Two galleons, seven sickles for Halloween and birthdays, three galleons, ten sickles for Christmas.”

“If it’s a coworker,” Draco said. “What about if it’s your superior?”

“Fuck, there’s a difference?” Harry sighed, flopping back onto the bed and dragging his pillow over his face.

“You’re allowed to spend an extra four sickles for your superiors. Paragraph Thirty-two” Draco said. He reached over and tugged the pillow away. “Come on, Harry, just a little more. We’re nearly to the good parts.”

Harry sat up. “Oh?”

“Two more paragraphs in this section, then Section Nine is all about inappropriate workplace conduct. There’s six paragraphs on kissing alone.” Draco winked at him, then looked down at the book. “Paragraph Thirty-three…”

They made it to Section Nine, but to Harry’s dismay it was just more talking. Forty-six paragraphs of talking. And worse, it was talking about sex. Or ‘intercourse’ as the Handbook referred to it, which Draco took great and obvious pleasure in pronouncing as salaciously as he possibly could, complete with leers and winks in Harry’s direction.

Bloody hell, the bastard was enjoying himself. Harry flopped backward on the bed again. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this.

No. Scratch that. He knew exactly what he’d done. He’d taken up with Draco bloody Malfoy.

“And Section Nine, Paragraph twenty-two. What is the appropriate discipline for colleagues caught engaging in any inappropriate—”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Harry grumbled. “Because see, I’ve got this utterly mad bloke living in my house and what he’d do to me if I got caught _engaging in any inappropriate workplace behavior_ with a colleague is far worse than anything in there.” He stretched out a foot and bumped the Handbook with his toes. “There probably wouldn’t be enough left of me for the Ministry to even bother disciplining afterward.”

“Absolutely correct,” Draco agreed. “But I don’t think your instructor would accept _the unbridled wrath of Draco Malfoy_ as a write-in on your exam.”

“You know, I’m sort of tempted to,” Harry sighed, staring idly up at the ceiling. He’d never noticed that crack before. Had that always been there? “I bet McGalliard would have a fit if I did. It’d almost be worth getting docked a couple of points.”

“You w—” Draco began, then shut his mouth with a snap. Harry sat up and raised his eyebrows, but Draco just shook his head. He’d clearly learned the danger of saying anything along the lines of ‘you wouldn’t dare’ to Harry, because it turned out that Harry almost certainly always _would_ , especially when it came from Draco. “Right. Moving on…”

He flipped the page with one precise flick of his fingers, and Harry couldn’t stand it anymore. “You know,” he said before Draco could continue on. “I’m a little confused about this bit.”

Draco flipped the page back. “Which, the discipline? It depends on the severity of the infraction, but a first offense generally gets you a warning and a note on your record. We covered that in Section—”

“Yes, that bit,” Harry said. He liked the way Draco had said ‘severity of the infraction’ more than he probably should, but blamed that on being forced to listen to Draco drone on about inappropriate workplace relations was starting to addle Harry’s brain a bit. “Perhaps you could help me tell the difference between the, ah, severities?”

Draco looked up at him, ready to help clarify any point Harry might require of him, but the serious look on his face vanished once he saw Harry’s smile. “No.”

“Please?” Harry tried to make his expression pathetic and helpless. “I really think a demonstration might really help clear it up.”

“Ugh,” said Draco, slamming the book closed and tossing it aside. It landed on the rug with a heavy _thump_. “You know I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that.”

“I know,” Harry said, grinning again. “That’s why I do it.”

“Fuck you,” Draco muttered.

“Well I’m trying—” Harry began, and cut off when Draco kissed him firmly.

And yeah, a riled-up Draco was the best. He kissed hard and a little mean, going right for Harry’s lower lip and biting at it until Harry’s mouth fell obediently open and he let Draco push his tongue inside, and then it was slick and warm and a little overwhelming in the absolute best way and yeah, sometimes Harry liked it the other way, liked it when Draco drew out the build-up, teased him with soft caresses and slow kisses, but god, sometimes he needed _this_ , needed sharp pressure and sharper teeth, one hand sneaking up to fist in Harry’s hair and pull it sharply, teetering just on the right side of too much. And it was wonderful because Harry trusted Draco to know his limits, to know when Harry wanted this and to know how much was too far, because Draco knew him, knew everything about him, could read him like an open book with large font and color pictures, and Harry was so, so lucky to have someone who loved him like this.

“Stop that,” Draco murmured when Harry ruined the kiss by smiling too much. “If you’re not going to take this seriously…”

“I am, I _am_ ,” Harry insisted, kissing him again, and tried to push him back onto the mattress.

Draco wouldn’t go, and for a few long seconds they shoved at each other until Harry gave in and stopped pushing in favor of getting his hands in Draco’s hair. He tugged on it lightly until Draco moaned and leaned heavily into him. Harry scooted closer, slid his other arm around Draco’s waist and held him tight, kissed him harder. Draco’s hand settled heavy and warm above Harry’s knee and slowly slid higher, squeezing gently, his thumb firmly tracing a path up the inside of his thigh. Harry’s breath hitched and his eyes squeezed closed and his legs fell open and then Draco, the bloody fucking _bastard_ , stopped.

“I think we’ve had quite enough of that,” Draco said, pulling back. He stood up, and Harry followed him to his feet without thinking, trying to go after him because he hadn’t had _nearly_ enough of that, not when Draco was all pink-cheeked and breathless in the way he liked best, his hair mussed and his eyes gone sharp and intent on Harry.

“Let’s try something new, shall we?” He took a step back and turned away from Harry. His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath.

“Draco?” Harry asked.

Draco whipped back around to face him, and Harry flinched back from the hatred in his eyes, the sort he hadn’t seen there for years now. Draco’s mouth twisted into a sneer even as his glare grew cold. “I should have known they’d send _you_ for this,” he snapped. “Perfect Potter. Tell me, have they made you Head Auror yet?”

Harry stumbled back a few steps as Draco advanced on him. “Er, no, what?”

Draco snorted and folded his arms over his chest, still glaring, mouth still curled into a sneer. “Oh wonderful. I don’t know how they expect to get anything out of me when their best and brightest can’t even ask a simple question.”

“Because you’re… you’ve been brought in… to be interrogated?” Harry asked, each phrase coming out increasingly breathless as elation and eagerness swelled in the pit of his belly. He was smiling again and struggling to make himself stop.

“Well spotted, Potty. Fucking useless, the lot of you. I’ll be out of here before suppertime, I expect.” He paused to examine his fingernails with careless affectation. “Go on, then. Ask your little questions. Let’s get this over with.”

Forget Healing, Harry thought with delight, Draco ought to be a stage performer.

“Very well,” Harry said, wrestling the smile off his face as he slipped into the coolly professional tone he used at work. He stood up straighter, looked down his nose a bit like Draco did when he was talking about politics he disagreed with. “If you’ll have a seat?” He gestured to the armchair in the corner of the room, then tucked both hands against the small of his back.

Draco stalked over to it and sat, managing to sweep a stray pair of Harry’s pants to the floor in a smoothly elegant motion as he did so. He crossed his legs and looked up at Harry, eyebrows raised an insolent fraction.

“Are you aware of why you’ve been brought in?” Harry asked, pacing forward to stand just in front of him.

“Because the lot of you are a bunch of incompetents?” Draco asked, mocking Harry’s professional tone. He lifted an eyebrow.

Harry frowned at him, still trying to piece together what angle Draco had worked out in that barmy mind of his. Whether he was an unwilling witness or had been arrested or was here on suspicion. Either way, he was definitely not cooperating. Harry tried to run through the guidelines laid out in the Handbook, but he’d barely given that chapter a passing glance since he still had several weeks before the exam on it. That was sort of a shame. Harry thought he recalled an entire section on the treatment of hostile witnesses that he would have liked to get a look at.

Perhaps next time. There would _absolutely_ be a next time. Harry anticipated needing a great deal of help studying for his next exam, and he didn’t think it’d be all that difficult to talk Draco into it.

He cleared his throat to buy a bit of time, then looked up and said very formally, “Draco, are you—“

“I’ve not given you leave to call my by my given name,” Draco cut him off. “If you’re going to insist on dragging me into this,” He paused and flicked his gaze contemptuously around the bedroom, “ _establishment_ at this ungodly hour, you can at least do me the courtesy of addressing me with some measure of respect.”

“My apologies,” Harry said, squashing his delight at Draco getting all shirty about his name. It did strange and fluttery things to the pit of his stomach when Draco acted the posh pureblood, partly because Harry also knew what Draco looked like when he was all flushed and disheveled with a cock up his arse, and something about the contrast was unbearably arousing. Mentally, Harry groped for Draco’s titles—he’d got a whole arseload of them simply by virtue of being the Malfoy scion—but came up blank, and went for the first one he could think of. “Healer-trainee Malfoy, do you understand why you have been brought in here today.”

Draco sniffed and looked away, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. “Now you’re just being an arse.”

“Well we’re not exactly here because we’re friends, are we?”

“Certainly not,” Draco said quickly with a disdainful glance that swept over Harry’s person from head to toe.

And oh, Harry was going to make him pay for that one later. “Then why don’t you make this easy on both of us? I’m sure you’re a very busy person with many important things to do.” He let a little bit of sarcasm seep into his tone under the companionable tone. “You’re only helping yourself by cooperating.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed at the falsely-friendliness in Harry’s voice. “You’re accusing me of petty thievery, Potter. I see no reason to cooperate with allegations this absurd.”

Ah. That was his angle.

“We’ve got two witnesses who assure me it’s not absurd at all,” Harry countered before he could think better of it. They hadn’t covered interrogations at all in class yet, and he wasn’t sure whether he should have revealed his witnesses this early on. He wished he’d been able to go over that chapter in the book a little closer. He’d looked over it before but most of it hadn’t really stuck. Harry pushed the thought aside as soon as it popped into his head. He was probably over-thinking this, anyhow.

“Entirely unfounded, I assure you,” Draco said with a shrug. “The Malfoys have always had enemies and some people will say whatever they think will bring us down.”

“Two people with no connection to each other, saying the exact same thing?” Harry pointed out. He folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t believe in coincidences like that.”

Draco gave him a wearied look. “But why on earth would I stoop to stealing in the first place? I assure you I’m rich enough to simply buy anything I want.”

“But money can’t buy the thrill of making off with it from right under the Ministry’s nose,” Harry said, leaning in. “I know your type. Young and rich and bored, looking for any excuse to break the monotony of your precious pampered life. Probably pocketed sweets from Honeydukes on Hogsmeade weekends—”

“Entirely beside the point,” Draco muttered, so like himself that Harry couldn’t tell whether he was breaking character or not.

Harry faltered. “Wait. Did you really?”

Draco rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. “Focus, darling,” he said dryly.

“Draco…” Harry began.

“Are we going to waste our time discussing my misspent youth, Auror Potter?” Draco drawled. “Or shall we return to the matter at hand?”

Right. Focus. Harry made himself frown. “The fact that you could very well afford it would only have added to the thrill, would it not?”

“That’s a very good theory,” Draco said. “Very interesting indeed. However.”

“However?” Harry echoed.

“I’m growing bored of this conversation. And there’s just one thing you haven’t considered,” Draco went on, gracefully unfolding his long limbs and rising slowly to his feet.

“Oh?” Harry asked, raising his chin to look Draco in the eye. “And what might that be.”

“Chapter Eight, Section One, Paragraph Two,” Draco said with a sudden and vicious smile.

And that was all the warning he gave before he lashed out with his wand and slung a _Tarantellegra_ across the room, and Harry barely flung out the counterspell that struck Draco’s magic and unraveled it in midair a scant second before it would have reached Harry. Inwardly, he cursed himself for not thinking to take Draco’s wand because yeah, fuck, Section One, Paragraph Two mandated that any suspect brought in for interrogation was to be divested of his wand while in Ministry custody. Because Draco had been acting uncooperative the whole time and _of course_ he’d try something like this. Because Draco was sort of insane, just a little.

Harry didn’t mind it so often, because mostly Draco was a harmless sort of mad, the sort that had little melt-downs over his own exams, or nagged at Harry for leaving used tea bags in the sink, or leaving his shoes in front of the Floo again, or got ridiculously worked up over politics. Usually Harry just let Draco’s insanity wash over him and let it go. Sometimes poked a little fun at Draco if he thought he could get away with it. Or got him all riled up on purpose just because it was fun, especially on nights he’d had a few glasses of wine with dinner, because Draco fucked like some sort of sex-demon if he was both angry and a little drunk.

But this, dueling in their bedroom, was an entirely new level of crazy, and what did it say about Harry that he was getting a little turned on from it?

Draco wasn’t holding back, using every trick he could to try to gain an advantage. And so Harry didn’t hold back either, bringing out every maneuver he’d learned in Training. They were fairly evenly matched. When Harry had been ready to take his Practicals, Draco had helped him practice for the dueling portion. Harry had enjoyed those long summer evenings spent fighting each other in the back garden. Over the course of those long and wonderful weeks, Draco had picked up everything Harry had been taught in class, and Harry had (slowly and painfully) learned every one of Draco’s dirty tricks.

This right here was what Harry loved best about Draco. How well they knew each other, how each of them knew how hard to push, how they could give everything they had against the other and knew they’d be met halfway. Harry threw a _Reducto_ at Draco, didn’t hold back on it because he knew that Draco would read his intent—Harry always twirled his wand in a particular way before casting _Reducto_ and had never managed to break the habit—and have a Shield Charm ready and waiting for it. The curse hit and dissipated with a loud _bang!_ that rattled the windowpanes.

Draco’s retaliation was swift and brutal, but his aim was off. The curse flew wide and the vase on the bureau exploded. Harry ignored the sudden spray of pulverized china and slung a spell back at Draco even as he dove out of the way of the next spell Draco threw. His own spell went careening off the _Protego_ Draco hastily threw out and slammed into the wall, leaving scorch marks on the plaster. Draco scrambled behind the chair as Harry ducked round the bed, banging his knee painfully as he hit the ground.

“Give up, Malfoy!” he shouted from his temporary bunker. “You’re just making this harder on yourself.”

“Oh really!” Draco shouted back. “Is that the only thing that’s hard?”

Harry grinned and adjusted himself. “Wanna find out? Put down your wand and maybe I’ll let you hold mine.” Harry heard Draco’s snort from across the room, and okay, yeah, maybe that one was pretty horrible. He stood up, then immediately dropped back down as a Blasting Curse blew up the pillow with a loud _whump!_ Feathers drifted down around him. “Draco, what the hell!”

“Are you propositioning me, Auror Potter?” Draco taunted. “Because that would be a direct violation of Chapter Five, Paragraph Ten, Section Six.” His voice dropped low and mock-disappointed. “We _just_ went over that.”

Harry thumped his head back against the side of the bed, and resisted the urge to get up and strangle Draco only because he knew he’d get hexed if he tried. “You asked me if I was hard!”

“ _I_ can say whatever the fuck I want. It’s the one advantage of being the prisoner,” Draco said. “ _You_ , on the other hand, are an Auror and are thus expected to hold yourself to a higher code of conduct.”

“Yeah, well next time you want to prove your point you can blow up your own pillow, you arsehole,” Harry snapped. “I liked that one.”

“What are you going to do, arrest me for it?” Draco sang out from across the room.

With a snarl, Harry flung himself out from behind the bed and cast a series of hexes at Draco, who surged out from behind the chair and cast right back. _Incarcerous_ met _Expulso_ and burst in a dazzle of green and gold sparks and the faintly acrid scent of ruptured magic. Harry threw himself to the side and rolled, coming up beside the bureau just in time to counter the Ear-Shriveling Curse Draco threw his way.

Backed into the corner, there wasn’t much room to maneuver, and Harry was forced to rely strongly on Shield Charms to defend himself. Draco always got vicious when Harry didn’t have the physical space to avoid his attacks, chaining his curses back-to-back-to-back, rapidfire in a way that Harry had never quite mastered. Back over the summer, he’d kept trying to get Harry trapped in the corner between the tool shed and the back fence so he could pin him down, bombard him with spells until his Shield Charm broke, and then hex him viciously with something innocuous and insulting. Once he’d caught Harry at the wrong moment with a Jelly-Legs Jinx and Harry went toppling arse over tits and slammed into the tool shed face-first. Draco had laughed at him, the bastard.

Though he’d improved quickly, and Draco had certainly provided motivation for it, once Harry found himself caught in a corner, Draco still managed to best him more often than not.

Which was why when Draco threw a Twitchy-Ears Hex at him, Harry nearly missed the split-second hesitation that followed, leaving Draco’s left side wide open and unprotected.

The second time it happened, Harry didn’t take the bait. Draco never left himself open like that. It must be a trap. It had to be a trap.

But the third time Draco left that same opening, Harry got it. This was where he was supposed to step in and take back the upper hand. He cast an _Expelliarmus_ and _Incarcerous_ in quick succession, and even managed to hit Draco’s wand with a wordless _Accio_ and catch it in time to use it to cast a quick cushioning charm before Draco could hit the ground. Pretty showy, even if Harry did say so himself. He could tell from the way Draco seemed to be struggling to hold onto his glare that he was impressed despite himself.

It’d be an entirely different story if Draco hadn’t thrown the duel, of course. Draco could still be one hell of a sore loser when he got his blood up. And nothing got his blood up quite like any sort of competition with Harry. Harry mostly didn’t mind; it certainly kept their relationship interesting.

Harry stuck both wands in his back pocket as he sauntered over to haul Draco up. He dragged him across the room and plopped him down on the armchair. He gave him a big cheerful grin.

“There we go,” he said brightly, propping Draco’s feet up on the footstool. He gave Draco’s cheek a little pat. “Comfy?”

“Fuck you,” Draco spat, then squirmed as Harry ran his hands over him. “What the fuck are you doing? Molesting a prisoner’s a violation of Paragraph Eleven, Section Twenty-Five.”

“Ah, but injuring a prisoner’s against the rules, too,” Harry said even though he couldn’t cite which bit of the rules exactly said that. He continued to pat Draco down, checking for bruises or swelling. Partly he was concerned about having injured Draco because Draco was such a stubborn prat that he wouldn’t interrupt the role-play to let on if he’d been hurt, and some of Harry’s spells had come awfully close to him. But mostly Harry did it because the duel had affected him rather more than maybe it should have and he just wanted to get his hands all over his boyfriend.

“Hm,” Draco sniffed, turning his face away even as he helpfully lifted his hips to help Harry check his backside, and Harry rewarded him with a bit of shameless groping. “Paragraph Eleven, Section Seventeen.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry said, his hands stilling. “You’ve memorized the entire thing, haven’t you?”

“I’m a prisoner,” Draco sniffed. “I know my rights.”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to understand,” Harry said, sliding his hands out from beneath Draco’s bum and sitting back on the footstool, settling his arse between Draco’s ankles, his knees draped over Draco’s shins. “Because you had more than a little trouble learning everything for your anatomy exam, but you appear to have memorized the entire bloody Handbook in about twenty minutes.”

Draco’s smile was all teeth. “You’ll be amazed what I’m capable of when properly motivated.”

Harry swallowed. “You know, when you say things like that, I’m really glad you’re my boyfriend.”

“Really,” Draco drawled, his smile sharpening. “Are you really that afraid to face me, Potter?”

Harry shook his head. “Not afraid to face you,” he said. “Just really want to fuck you.”

“Chapter Eight, Paragraph—”

“Sod Paragraph Twelve, Section Six,” Harry interrupted.

Draco’s smile turned indolent. “So you do know the rules.” His eyes slipped half-closed and he looked up at Harry from beneath his lashes.

“Hm,” Harry said, tracing one fingertip up the inside of Draco’s knee. “I’ve had a very good teacher.”

“I sincerely hope you’re not talking about McGalliard,” Draco said.

“Not really my type, to be honest,” Harry said. His fingers slipped beneath the restraints crisscrossing Draco’s thighs. “You on the other hand…”

He attempted to make his voice go low and seductive, but all he didn’t think he’d done a very good job of it because Draco had to fight down a laugh.

“Perhaps you just like that you’ve got me tied up and helpless?” Draco suggested, smirking.

“Perhaps,” Harry said. “Or perhaps I think that we might come to a mutually beneficial arrangement regarding your current standing with the law.” He stood up. “Come on,” Harry said, tugging at Draco. He got a firm hold of him by one arm and guided him up and out of the chair and then down onto the floor.

Harry had never been able to resist Draco on his knees, and Draco fucking knew it. He was playing it up, blatant and shameless, looking up at Harry from beneath his lashes, the pink tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. And right this moment, Draco might be tied up and on his knees, but between the two of them, he was the one with all the power.

“What now?” Draco asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Oh yes. He knew what he was doing, all right. “You’re the Auror in charge. I am entirely at your mercy.”

“Exactly,” Harry said. His ribs felt too tight for his lungs. “ _Exactly_ ,” he said again. “And that means you’ve got to do what I tell you.”

Draco’s gaze cut away before darting back. He blinked slow. “So what are you telling me to do?”

Harry swiped his finger over Draco’s mouth, gently parting his lips. Draco went along with it, letting his mouth drop open enough to flick the tip of his tongue against Harry’s thumb.

Harry schooled his expression into a stern look, equal parts unyielding and disapproving. He undid his trousers and tugged them halfway down his thighs. “Get to it,” he said, and was proud of how steady his voice came out when he felt like he was coming apart inside.

Draco gave a small hum of assent, his eyes slipping closed as he leaned in, nosing along Harry’s cock, brushing his closed mouth along it from tip to base. He nuzzled gently at the crease of Harry’s thigh until Harry reached down and curled a hand in his hair, guiding him back to where he wanted. Draco glanced up at him, grey eyes soft and, god, if it were anyone but Draco then Harry would describe his gaze as _adoring_. Sometimes it still struck him as impossible that Draco loved him as much as he did. That Harry should be so lucky to have someone who loved him like this. Harry felt his control over his persona slip, the stern expression crowded out by a smile, Auror Potter fading away until he was just _Harry_ again.

And then Draco ruined the moment by biting Harry’s thigh. _Hard_.

“Ow, fuck.” He pushed Draco away and glared at him. Draco’s teeth had left purpling marks against the pale flesh of his inner thigh, and even though it stung fiercely, something deep inside Harry responded to it with a sharp wave of arousal.

Draco arched an eyebrow, practically daring Harry to call him on it. Distantly, Harry knew he was being manipulated. The fact that Draco knew him so well was as much a curse as it was a blessing. Draco had always had a knack for finding Harry’s buttons and knowing exactly how hard to push them to get what he wanted. He’d been good at it when they were children, and had only got better at it the longer he spent with Harry.

And Harry knew all of this, but he still couldn’t keep from rising to the bait Draco laid out for him. He’d never been able to resist.

He tightened his grip in Draco’s hair and pulled him forward, using his other hand to push his cock against Draco’s mouth. Draco resisted for the barest instant before opening his mouth and accepting Harry’s cock as sweet and docile as anything. Harry couldn’t help the deep sigh that punched out of him at the feel of Draco’s warm mouth taking him in, sucking him in deep until the head of Harry’s cock bumped against the back of Draco’s throat.

Harry’s breath shuddered as he exhaled, not quite a sigh, and he hunched over a little against his will as Draco swallowed around him, his fingers curling in Draco’s hair and pulling him in tight until Draco’s forehead bumped against his belly. Draco pulled off just far enough to suck in a deep breath through his nose before sliding all the way back down, sucking hard.

“God, Malfoy,” Harry breathed.

Draco’s fingers clenched around Harry’s legs, not pulling him in but just holding tight.

“Malfoy,” Harry said again, and Draco moaned around him, tongue pressing hard to the underside of his cock.

He let his mind drift, caught halfway between the fantasy of Draco as his exploited prisoner and memories of when they first got together. When Draco was still _Malfoy_ all the time and not just when he was being an arse, and they still sort of hated each other and the sight of Draco on his knees lit a strange and fluttery flicker of triumph in the very pit of Harry’s belly. The small spark of nostalgia ignited into a flare that burned bright through his chest, stealing his breath. Three years together had dulled the novelty of this, made the thrill of it commonplace.

Harry wondered when exactly that had happened, when he had begun to take such an extraordinary thing for granted.

“Draco,” he said, sweeping Draco’s hair back from his forehead, thumb gently tracing down the tender skin of his temple.

Draco pulled off his cock with a soft, wet sound. “Merlin,” he grumbled. “If you’re going to keep looking at me like that, you might as well get rid of these restraints.” He wriggled a little bit against his bonds.

“How am I looking at you?” Harry asked. He reached awkwardly down to grab a wand from his back pocket from where his trousers had slipped down around his knees. Draco’s it turned out. He used it to cancel the _Incarcerous_ before handing it back.

Draco tossed it aside and stood up, shaking out his arms. “Like you’re stupidly in love.”

“Well, I am,” Harry said, taking his wrist and rubbing gently at where the magical bonds had left a faint pink mark. “You know I am.”

And Draco smiled and kissed him, slow and deep with none of the urgency he’d shown before, and didn’t even scold when Harry ruined it a second time by smiling too much. He just slipped his arms around Harry’s waist and mouthed at his jaw, sucking small kisses against the skin, and tolerated Harry rubbing his hard cock against Draco’s hip for a few moments.

“Naked,” Draco said, giving him a little nudge to put some space between them. “Now.”

Harry stripped off his clothes as quickly as he could, but Draco still beat him. He was still untangling his pants from around his ankles when Draco went down on his knees again, pushed Harry back to sit on the bed, and then settled down between his thighs. He licked gently at Harry’s cock before taking it into his mouth, and Harry gave up on his pants. They weren’t in the way down there and he had much more important things to pay attention to.

He let his eyes close and gave himself over to sensation. The wet warmth and steady sucking pressure around his cock. Draco’s soft hair sliding between his fingers. The bright sting of pain at his thigh as Draco rubbed apologetically at the bite mark.

“Close,” he said, letting his hand drop down to cup the back of Draco’s neck.

Draco responded by sliding one hand up and fondling Harry’s bollocks as he sucked harder. Harry let himself go, let the sweet piercing pressure build up. He forced his eyes open and looked down at Draco, how his jaw worked as he sucked, his lips stretched around Harry’s cock. He had his eyes shut, gold lashes fanned against his cheeks.

“Oh,” Harry breathed as the pleasure burst in a slow-motion rush that swept through him and left him feeling warm and a little tingly, his whole body loose and limp.

Draco gave it another few seconds to make sure Harry was done before he pulled off and clambered up onto the bed, flopping over onto his back, tucking one hand underneath his head

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said magnanimously.

“Lovely of you to be so gracious about it,” Harry told him, flopping onto his back, legs still trailing off the bed. He rolled onto his side and mouthed at Draco’s hipbone. _Crest of ilium_ , he thought with a smile. The best part of helping Draco for his exam was that it had given Harry more words to describe all the bits of Draco’s body that he loved so much.

“Hm,” Draco said. “My mother taught me impeccable manners.”

Frowning, Harry glanced up at him. “Your mother taught you impeccable manners about reciprocating blowjobs?”

Draco slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t be crude,” he said. “And ugh, don’t talk about my mother and blowjobs. You’re ruining the mood.”

“You’re the one who brought her up,” Harry pointed out, kissing down the tender stretch of skin from hipbone to belly.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond, clearly willing to let Harry have the last word if it meant the conversation was now over. Instead he twitched his hips up. Harry was tempted to draw it out, tease him a bit, but mostly he decided he wanted to make his boyfriend come. He closed one hand around the length of Draco’s erection and gave it a couple of strokes before licking over the tip.

“Oh, yes,” Draco sighed as Harry sucked him gently, one hand still curled around the base.

He fell into an easy rhythm of squeezing and sucking, just the way he knew Draco liked, and in no time he had Draco writhing against the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets, whining quietly between panting breaths. Harry leaned his forearm against Draco’s hip, holding him still when he tried to thrust.

“Sorry, sorry,” Draco murmured. He patted one hand against Harry’s hair. “Please.”

Harry paused long enough to suck one finger into his mouth before going back to it, sucking him in deep this time as he reached down and rubbed his wet finger lightly over Draco’s arsehole. Draco fell apart, whining louder and pushing his hips up to urge Harry to take him deeper. His cock throbbed against Harry’s tongue.

“Here, I’m. Here,” he panted, and then came with a soft gasp, his whole body going tense.

Harry swallowed it down and pulled off slowly, carefully sucking Draco’s cock clean as he went. He crawled up the bed and dropped down beside Draco.

“Mm,” Draco sighed, letting his head loll to the side. His eyes were heavy-lidded and warm. “You are entirely too good at that.”

Harry snickered. “Oh the horror. I’m too good at blowjobs. However shall you survive.”

Draco snorted and flopped an arm over to nudge at Harry. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Mm,” Draco sighed again. “Give me twenty minutes.”

That sounded promising. Harry reached up for his pillow and encountered a sad pile of shredded pillowcase and a generous dusting of feathers. He leaned over farther and stole Draco’s, stuffing it behind his head.

“So, I notice the only things you destroyed during the duel were mine,” Harry groused, punching at Draco’s pillow a few times to plump it up. It was too soft, unlike the perfectly stuffed one of Harry’s that Draco had ruined.

“Not all of them,” Draco said. He rolled over onto his stomach and dragged a corner of the sheets over his arse. “The vase belonged to both of us.”

“That vase was a gift from _my friend_ Luna and you hated it.”

Draco aimed a sour look over his shoulder. “It was painted with pictures of manticores having sex. I did us both a favor.”

Harry drew in a steadying breath, felt his lungs quiver faintly with the urge to laugh as he said seriously, “The mating rituals of the manticores are extremely fascinating—“

“And off-putting,” Draco cut him off. “I’ve no idea why you thought the bedroom of all places would be a good place to display it.”

It took some effort, but Harry schooled his features into an expression of wide-eyed befuddlement. “Erm. Because… it’s sex? And that happens in the bedroom?”

Draco made a small sound of helpless disgust and thumped his forehead into the mattress, and Harry grinned at the back of his head.

“They’re really quite majestic creatures,” Harry went on, stroking Draco’s hair. “Did you know that the male manticore, when aroused—“

With a growl, Draco lunged at him and rolled him over, pushing his face into the pillow.

“—it puts pressure on his scent glands and then—“ Harry went on loudly, muffled but still audible.

“If you ever want to have sex again you’ll stop talking,” Draco said, and Harry laughed. Draco made a small sound of disgust and let him go with one last shove.

Harry propped himself up on an elbow and made a futile attempt at straightening out his hair, and then lost it all over again when Draco glared at him.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re bloody hilarious,” Draco muttered. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Harry smiled at him, then reached out and caught Draco's fingers in his own. “Yeah, I really am.”


End file.
